STAR WARS: The Dark Crusade - Inception
by Seether.39
Summary: This is the first chapter to a retelling of the Clone Wars and the events that led to the rise of the Galactic Empire.
1. Introduction

_A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away . . ._

It is a time of uncertainty. Beyond the reach of the Galactic Republic, uprisings forebode the coming of great conflict.

Against the whims of the JEDI COUNCIL, Master Darius departed from the capital world of Coruscant into the Inner Rim with a band of Knights to address the threat of a Mandalorian crusade.

Attempts to return and inform the Supreme Chancellor of recent developments have been hindered by the work of deadly saboteurs aboard the Republic homeworld's SHIELD GATE. Admiral Tarkin has been handpicked to address the threat to the Republic's security . . .


	2. Chapter 1

A ripple in the vast expanse of space.

A single _Eliall_ -class cargo freighter appeared from its hyperspace jump amid the blackness of the galaxy, gleaming with the bronze glint that emanated from the world now before it. Though the vessel was hardly equipped to withstand the might of a naval force of any affiliation―least of all the Republic's―it did not waver from its course, despite the present danger.

* * *

The ship's cockpit was an incommodious fit for three out of a crew of five. Regardless, the young Jedi tasked with piloting it would be alleviated of the cumbersome circumstances in a matter of moments. Its intended destination was not far out of reach now.

 _No farther than imperilment,_ he silently surmised.

A strong hand fell upon his shoulder. The young man felt his mind steady as a sense of faith unmatched by any other in the known galaxy was instilled in him; faith in nothing other than the will of the Force.

"Trust in our path, Syilus," Master Darius advised his former pupil. His voice bore an unmistakable, alluring richness.

"One might argue you gamble too often with the least odds of success."

The second voice to break the cold silence was distorted by an armored helmet, polished and embellished with blue and silver. The face of its wearer was masked behind a darkly tinted T-shaped visor, but the concealment spoke nothing more nor less of the figure's magnificence.

The man was known as _Mandalore the Keeper_ to his people, the Mandalorians―a race of warriors that prided itself on honor and saw that its children embraced the calling of a supersoldier. He was the leader of their generation, the architect of their future. Darius, in contrast, was a marvel among the Jedi. He exuded an air of power, experience, wisdom, boldness, and most remarkably: willingness to dare the obscure, a trait many Jedi felt violated their dear platitudes.

The comment was met with Darius's amused gaze. "Come now, Fett. Have you no belief in destiny?"

Their quips spoke volumes of the difference between a warrior's expectancies and a Jedi's certainty. Despite their alliance and their many experiences together, they couldn't help but indulge their tendencies to engage in discourse regarding their polarity.

"I've come this far for you, and I will keep repaying your service to my people with our honor. But dissuading me from my skepticism might be beyond even your abilities, Darius."

"I am confident that the only thing that can lead us to failure is doubt. If it will assuage your own, I have assurances from the Supreme Chancellor himself that we will pass unharmed."

Jango Fett may as well have been a stone. "Assurances, eh? We have not a single word from him actually explaining how our survival is guaranteed."

They both concurrently studied the nearing Shield Gate, a wheel-shaped space station positioned in orbit above the Republic capital world of Coruscant. It was among some of the galaxy's greatest inventions, as it was capable of ensuring planetary security with an impenetrable deflector shield that spanned across the entirety of a planet. The only way past was through the Shield Gate's center entry ring, should an arrival be deemed legal, harmless and granted authorization; otherwise, they were halted by an additional shield in the entry ring or disabled by a squadron of starfighters―decimated if necessary. Unfortunately for Darius's last two groups sent to report to the Chancellor, they suffered the latter fate for reasons unknown―as did their attackers, by their own actions in mid-flight. Oddly enough, the jointed Jedi presence aboard the Shield Gate was incapable of providing answers on that front.

After a long pause, the older Jedi said, "He has reason to believe that alerting us to the details of the Admiral's plan will simply hamper our chances of proceeding undisturbed."

"I don't suppose you know what those reasons are."

"Not quite." Darius took in the sight of Coruscant with resolute anticipation, drawn to the patterns of light scattered throughout its dark surface. In it, he found himself. "But make no mistake, the Force has conspired to bring us to this point."

* * *

Admiral Wilhuff Tarkin, too, mused on his own path, maintaining an unflinching stare with his reflection in the viewport in front of him.

Given the identity of the person who had appointed him to handle the task of resolving this crisis, his thoughts were on his long-ago meeting with the Chancellor when he was granted a commission in the Republic Navy. As he could recall, his resume was spotless and certainly fit to impress. His political ties alone were astounding to the general eye: membership with a prominent family; relation to the ever loyal Senator Shayla Paige-Tarkin; cousin of former Senator Ranulph Tarkin, hero of the Stark Hyperspace War. Additionally, Tarkin was a former member of a subdivision of the Judicial Forces known as the Republic Outland Regions Security Forces, with three citations for bravery in combat, two doctorates in military tactics and strategy, and over fourteen years of experience commanding ships while combating pirates. Still, his motives for seemingly pursuing a demotion from Lieutenant-Governor of Eriadu came into question. What had taken him aback during the meeting was the pleasant surprise of discovering a powerful ally who appreciated passion, pragmatism and advancement. More so, he foresaw a future of reformation forged by their works.

"Sir," spoke a nearby officer in charge of communications. "We have verified Darius's arrival. What are your orders?"

Tarkin unblinkingly steered himself from his remembrances. "Lower the shield. Inform him that they are to proceed." He swiveled around and strode to observe the coming spectacle through another viewport that offered a full display of all activity in the center ring.

At first, it was an uneventful sight, watching the casual descent of a none too sizeable freighter. Slowly but surely, however, Tarkin espied a total of four Y-wings converging on the ship from both sides of the Shield Gate, preparing to bomb their helpless prey.

"Activate the fail-safes!" he commanded.

* * *

The scanners aboard the cargo ship confirmed the swift approach of four bombers. Syilus was especially distressed, his mind boggled by the fact that acquiring a ship with actual armaments hadn't figured into whatever plan was about to unfold. He eyed the red dots representing the bombers on the radar within the cockpit, coming closer.

He couldn't restrain himself. "My faith in you has taken me this far, Darius. I only hope that it hasn't led us to our destruction."

"You needn't be so naïve," Darius calmly responded, devoid of even the smallest hint of worry. "We can trust that control of the situation is well in hand."

"Tell that to your last send-offs," Fett reasoned discouragingly.

Small moments passed. It was a suspenseful sensation for Syilus, being entrapped in a panic that escalated with the more distance closed between them and the threat just on the horizon. He dwelled on his earlier life with the Jedi, on how devout he'd been to their training and their beliefs. Regrettably, that was something he found he couldn't bring into certain realities such as these.

Suddenly, the attackers seemed to halt their advance.

" _Shield Gate control to Darius,_ " a voice said on the intercom. " _All threats have been neutralized. You may proceed._ " They then clicked off.

Syilus turned to face his former teacher, nearly dumbstruck. "Yet again, your perception is proven correct."

The older man half-grinned. "Never will you find a time in which I act without certitude."

* * *

The freighter continued its descent, unmarked.

"The fighters' engines are all disabled as you ordered," said an officer.

Tarkin did not waste this moment on pride at his success―the situation still needed resolving. "Gravitate them back to the hangars from which they departed and escort the pilots to their individual cells. Have them interrogated as necessary and provide me with an analysis of the results."

"Yes, sir."


End file.
